


Words Left Unsaid.

by halelujah



Series: Marvel Fics. [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Stucky is background, happens after Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:33:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halelujah/pseuds/halelujah
Summary: It’s been seventy two hours since Tony Stark was last seen and the team has began to lose all hope.Every base and every HYDRA operative they’ve found, have been lacking in information, even after Natasha had been left alone with the latter to squeeze out whatever she could, before taking care of them.Steve hadn’t approved, but desperate times as the saying goes. And they were more than desperate to find Tony.





	Words Left Unsaid.

No one had been alerted until a day later after his abduction, everyone just assuming that he was fine and doing what Tony Stark did best.

Pepper had called Natasha, - both ladies still friends after Natasha’s undercover op was brought to light - and while a little frazzled and far fetched, had calmly asked if she’d heard from Tony, claiming that she hadn’t seen him since the press conference the day before.

The very same press conference that had tried to crucify him for the whole Accords debacle.

Pepper had just assumed he’d gone back to his workshop to lick his metaphorical wounds, vowed to check on him the next day, but when she had gone down there, she was shocked to find that it was empty, FRIDAY announcing that she hadn’t heard from him herself.

That had sent a murmur of discomfort through Steve and the rest of the team, Sam frowning hard down at the phone placed on the table between them, his arms wrapped around his waist. They all knew where ever Tony was, it was likely FRIDAY or Pepper wasn’t usually far behind.

It isn’t until footage of Tony being knocked out and bodily thrown into the back of a black SUV, does the dread set in.

~

“You need to rest.” Steve murmurs from behind him, probably leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest.

“You know I can’t.” Sam mutters, eyes never leaving the photo he’s clutching in his hands. It was the only thing he had that reminded him of happier days. “Is this what it felt like when you couldn’t find Barnes?”

There’s a loud sigh then footfalls and then Steve is sitting on the bed beside him. “Yeah, it kinda feels like this.”

Sam swallows shakily and tightens his grip around the photo, his fists shaky with either anger or grief. He couldn’t really tell because he just felt numb to it all.

“I should have been there with him.” He whispers, exhaling through his nose. “I should have made more of an effort – _fought_ for him.”

“There wasn’t much you could do.” Steve protests gently. “Tony wasn’t exactly forthcoming –”

“I fought against my fiancé, Steve. I willingly took the side against my partner, the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, _till death do us part_.” He growls out, standing on his feet so he can pace. “And now after hiding away in Wakanda for six weeks, no real effort on my part to fix the burnt bridges between us, he’s taken and no one was there to help! _No one_!”

Standing himself, Steve pauses him in his rant and pacing, gently takes the photo from his closed fists and places it carefully on the bed in front of them.

“Beating yourself up isn’t going to help him. We need to keep a cool head about this.” He soothes, cupping Sam on the elbow and squeezing firmly.

“Says the dude that took on half the UN to save his own boyfriend, consequences be damned.” Sam snorts and instantly regrets the ugly comment. It’s silent between them before he clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Steve shakes his head, a grim smile pulling at his lips. “No, you’re right, there’s not much room for me to move in, and I tried to take a yard from an inch.”

Again, silence stretches between them, their gazes locked with the photo that was snapped seconds after Tony had accepted Sam’s proposal. Both their eyes are shiny with unshed tears, but they’re beaming so wide and with so much love for one another, it’s enough to give someone cavities because it’s so sweet. Sam had lifted Tony up and spun them, his new fiancé tossing his head back with a laugh as he clutched on.

It’s Sam’s favourite photo and all he has left right now, that even suggests that there’s a relationship after the clusterfuck that’s called the Accords.

It breaks his heart.

“We’ll get him back, Sam.” Steve promises, “We will. And then you’ll be able to talk things through.”

“I don’t even care if we don’t talk things through,” he says, “I just need him to be safe and okay.”

“Listen to me. You’ll get your chance to talk with him after he’s back.” Steve repeats, cupping his shoulder this time and giving him a gentle shake.

It’s as if it was meant to be.

Clint comes barreling into the room seconds after Steve’s promise and says the magic words.

“We’ve found him.”

~

It really wasn’t meant to be.

“What’s wrong with him?” Wanda breathes, covering her mouth with a hand, her eyes wide in horror.

Sam feels the same as he watches Tony struggle against Steve’s grip, his teeth bared at them and his hands now free of the guns he’d been clenching around. He doesn’t look like he’s listening to Steve’s soothing words or that he actually understands them.

“It’s like he’s feral.” Natasha says, and even she looks taken aback.

It’s Barnes though that delivers the heart crushing blow from beside Barton. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, or maybe he’s staring into a mirror, Sam isn’t so sure. “They’ve – they’ve put him in the chair. He’s been wiped.”

~

Sam sighs to himself, his arms all but clutching an unconscious Tony to his chest as they fly back to America. They had to sedate him for their own and his safety. Still didn’t make Sam feel any better to watch Tony slowly go limp in Steve’s arms, after he’d administered the dose.

He traces his thumb under Tony’s eye, just above where a bruise is smudged over the apple of his cheek. There’s cuts all over his face from what he can tell are from punches, some fresh and others scabbing over. He’s afraid to find out if his body is the same or even worse.

“What did they do to you?” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss in Tony’s hair before touching their foreheads together. He breathes in shakily for a minute and then whispers, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, baby.”

Sam doesn’t know he’s fallen asleep curled around Tony with one hand resting over his thudding heartbeat, until he’s jolted awake when the quinjet lands. He blinks slowly up at Steve, somewhat comforted by the gentle smile he’s given.

“We’re back at Stark Tower. We should put him in one of the containment rooms.”

He wants to protest, it’s ready and scathing on his tongue, but he bites down on it and nods when he remembers the way Tony had tried to put a bullet through the meat of Steve’s thigh. He watches numbly as Barnes pulls Tony out of his arms and carries him off, Natasha following after him silently, the grip of her hand squeezing his still warm around his fingers.

“Do you think we’ll get him back?” He asks, swallowing at the prospect of having to remember the terrible things that had happened between them, while Tony was to remain clueless. Maybe forever.

“If there was one thing I know for sure about Tony, it’s his never ending flair of doing the unexpected.” Steve says, bumping their shoulders together. “Don’t give up on him yet. Don’t give up on you two.”

Feeling a sense of determination and hope bloom in his stomach, Sam vowed to keep that flicker alive, how ever long it took to get his Tony back.

~

Sam doesn’t even entertain the disappointment when Banner tells him he can’t help Tony, that it goes passed his line of thinking and work. He just brushes it off like a duck would water.

He does the same when Tony stares blankly from behind a glass window, no trace of recognition on his face or in his movements. It had only been a week, he reasons with himself, they can’t rush this in case Tony’s mind is lost for good.

A month goes by with no real progress and Sam begins to feel that flame flicker down to nothing.

~

“How long did it take you to remember something?” Sam asks as soon as he sees Barnes.

The man in question steps up beside him where he’s seated on the floor, his back against the wall before he’s dropping down to sit with him. They watch Tony silently as he begins to pace the length of the room restlessly, brown eyes narrowed in their direction.

Tony’s never done this before in front of Sam, displayed such anger and animal like behaviour. In front of Steve and Natasha, basically the entire team, yes, but not in front of him.

“It came in flashes. Bursts of faces and buildings.” Barnes starts, a furrow between his eyebrows. “It was hard to separate what the Winter Solider considered as missions and targets and with what I knew and loved. It didn’t all just hit me in one swoop, I honestly don’t think I’d be able to handle that if it did.”

“So it’s hopeless to wish that that’s what I want to happen?”

“Not necessarily. I can only speak from experience. We don’t know if HYDRA just wiped his memories and left it at that, or if he was used for missions in the short timeframe they had him.” Barnes answers after a few moments to think. “We can only wait and let time tell.”

“I’m sick of waiting.” Sam sighs, leaning his head against the wall, gaze following Tony as he continues to pace. The thought hits him again. “Why doesn’t he do that when it’s just me?”

Barnes smiles grimly at him. “Because he doesn’t see you as a threat.”

~

It’s a bad day.

Somehow Tony figures out how to hack the systems, - though Sam suspects that FRIDAY just listened to Tony’s silent demands, - and manages to get to the common floor before someone catches him.

Well, it’s more Barton was stuffing his face with a bowl of dry cereal, seen movement from the corner of his eye and then procedded to scream until Natasha came to the rescue.

That wasn’t really what made today a bad day.

Apparently the second Tony had seen Natasha, all hell broke lose. By the time he, Barnes and Steve get there, the immediate area is a complete disaster. Barton is laid out on the floor unconscious with a nasty gash on his temple and Natasha is fighting it out with Tony.

“What the –” Barnes starts, before Steve is throwing the Shield and deflecting something that had been thrown in his boyfriend’s direction by Tony.

They all stare down at their feet, eyes wide when they see a steak knife laying on the ground.

“A little help would be nice!” Natasha snarls, blocking a fist with a kick to Tony’s ribs. Her movements are lacking in their usual ferocity, her body language soft and submissive. She’s not looking to hurt Tony, only just subdue him.

He turns to Steve and nods to Barton and Barnes, “Get them outta here.”

“Sam, what–”

“Just do it! I have an idea.” He snaps, moving closer to where Tony was still throwing punches in Natasha’s direction.

He doesn’t bother to check if Steve’s listened, just keeps his focus on looking for an opening to strike. Sam sees it when Natasha uses Tony’s weight against him and flips him onto his back, the redhead panting as she stumbles a few steps back. In a blink of an eye, Tony’s back on his feet and heading for her again, a knife he doesn’t even know where it came from, held in his hand and glinting dangerously.

Sam makes the decision when Tony’s a pace away from Natasha, literally throws himself in front of her with his hands held placatingly before him. He hears the hitch of breathe behind him, feels fingers clench in his shirt, ready to yank him back if the moment calls for it.

But it doesn’t. It really doesn’t.

Tony stops his advance, chest heaving and looking slightly confused as to why. Sam’s own chest is heaving, though it’s probably because his heart is pounding its way from behind his ribcage.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Sam says, taking a step forward and stopping when Tony glares at him, his grip tightening around the handle of the knife. “It’s just me, Tony. You’re okay.”

“You need to back up, Sam.” Natasha murmurs at him. “He’s unpredictable.”

“When I say, I want you to move to the door.” He replies, ignoring her caution. He knows that the man is unpredictable, but underneath that, he was still Tony. His Tony that snorted if you tickled him. The one that had held him during the anniversary of Riley’s death.

When nothing happens in the silence that follows, Sam nods his head slightly and takes a step forward as Natasha slinks her way towards the door. Tony clearly doesn’t like that and shows his displeasure by shifting his body align with where the redhead’s next step would be.

“Look at me, baby.” Sam orders, taking another step towards him. He’s close enough now that if he wanted, he could reach out and grab Tony’s hand. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

By the time Natasha reaches the door on the opposite side of the room and slides out, Sam’s shoes are brushing against Tony’s socked feet, the air hot between them as they breathe in and out. Sam remembers a time where he shyly admitted to Tony that he could get lost in his eyes, he’s more than relieved to say that that fact is still true. Even when said eyes were staring back at him blankly.

Slowly, Sam reaches out for the steak knife Tony is still holding and pries it out of his grip, then tosses it away. He’s not going to lie and say his racing heartrate slows at the action. Something catches his gaze in Tony’s now empty hand; a piece of paper. Keeping their eyes locked, he leans down and pulls it out from his fingers.

Before he has the chance to open it and read what’s been written down, Tony lets out a soft grunt and stumbles forward into Sam’s arms, a dart sticking out from his neck. He turns around and sees Barton leaning against the doorjamb, blood crusted over the side of his face and a dartgun now discarded on the floor.

It’s a flurry of movements then as Tony’s eyes slowly shut, his breathing slowing down to deep and even inhales. It’s when he’s situated in his usual spot watching over Tony outsite the containment room, that he decides to open the paper up. He studies it, stomach queezy at the bloody fingerprints and dirt smudges on the creased folds, and as Sam unwraps it to see familiar writing, he feels tears burn behind his eyes.

_Sam, I’m so sorry._

_If you’re reading this – and doesn’t that sound like a cliche – it means that you’ve found me, either alive or dead, is really up to the asshats that have me. They want to know where you, Steve and the rest of the team are and I’ve cheerfully told them to get fucked. In response to my sunshiney answer, there’s now threats of the chair. The very same chair that Barnes has been strapped in time and time again. Sounds delightful, right? Not sure if it'll turn me into some mind controlled lackey, like Barnes or worse, kill me._

_I can’t let them know where you are though, pudding pop. Despite the…the differences we’ve shared over the last weeks, I still love you. Always will. So, it seems I’ve a date with a chair. Tell Pepper she’s the boss now, of everything, though she’s had that title ever since the day I hired her. Tell my Boo, Rhodey, it wasn't his fault. He deserved that vacation and I'd happily send him off again, just so he could relax some. Make sure my baby girl, FRIDAY, knows it isn't her fault either. Between her and Rhodey, the guilt that'll come from this, will be the size of Manhattan. Let Happy have the Roadster, he always did love that car. Looked like a child in a candy store with explicit permission to go buck wild. I know he'll take good care of it._

_I wish I could see you one more time, if just to…I don’t know. Tell you that I still love you. That your ass is still mine, regardless of the fact that it’s hiding somewhere in Wakanda. Yes, I know where you are, what do you take me for?_

_Maybe I’d ask for one last kiss. Maybe your forgiveness. I guess we’ll never know._

_Tony._

A sob rips through Sam’s mouth, tears sliding down his cheeks as he clutches the paper close to his chest. If he thought he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Tony before, now holding what Tony thought was his signed death certificate, just cemented it. And he had signed it willingly to keep Sam’s location a secret, to keep Sam alive. Even though he hadn't done much recently, to warrant it.

He wants to go into the containment room and kiss his apologies over every inch of Tony’s skin, wants to tell him that it’s not he that should be asking for forgiveness, it should be _Sam_. But he can’t because that’s not his Tony. And by the looks of things, it never will be.


End file.
